by A F Stewart
“So the crew want orders? They want their stalwart captain to come save the day? Come tell them what to do? Tell them that everything will be all right...Is that it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What if he can’t? What if he doesn’t know if all will be well?”
“Then he lies, sir. He tells them whatever they need to keep them calm and safe.”
“Well, that would truly be a grand lie, I think. I’m not sure there is a safe anymore.”
“Sir?”
Slowly, Rafe turned and stared at Blackthorne. The first mate blanched and nearly took a step backward. The expression on his captain’s face showed a blistering reflection of pain, rage, and something akin to desolation.
“The Oracle told me something dark was behind all this, Blackthorne. Something ancient and black. I didn’t heed, but I think I tasted it out there. Just a touch of something foul. Full of hatred and familiarity. I don’t know what it means, but I do know it cannot be allowed into the After World.” Rafe reached out and fingered a small box on his desk before opening it. He extracted a smooth black stone. “Do you know what this is, Elliot?”
Blackthorne, more than a bit surprised at being addressed by his first name, could do no more than shake his head.
“It’s black amber. A potent thing indeed, this tiny stone. You want me to tell them something comforting. And what if there is no comfort? What if the whole world’s gone mad and your captain may have to do something drastic to protect it?”
“Then tell them that. Tell them something. The truth, lies, a blend of both. Whatever comes out of your mouth, just say it. Get up on deck and be our captain.” The last words came out of Blackthorne’s mouth in a heated rush and made Rafe straighten his spine. In spite of everything, the corner of the captain’s mouth quirked.
“Perhaps you should be the one giving the orders, Blackthorne.”
“No, sir! Forgive me if I’ve overstepped, but this isn’t the time for wallowing in self-pity or despair. I’m sure there’ll be time later, but we’re needing action now, sir.”
Rafe flinched slightly at the subtle rebuke. “You’re correct. And you didn’t overstep. Gave me a much needed kick in my backside, more like.” Rafe rose to his feet, pocketing the stone. “It’s past time I addressed the crew and broke the bad news.”
Rafe gave Blackthorne a woeful smile and walked out of his cabin, leaving the first mate to trail after him. Soon after, the pair arrived on deck before a subdued and apprehensive crew.
Blackthorne moved past Rafe to join the assembled. Everyone stared at their captain, expectant and waiting. Rafe felt the weight of his obligations, the horror, and the stark reality shackled him as sure as if he were chained in iron. There could be no escape. Not for the God of Souls, and the captain of the Celestial Jewel. Rafe closed his eyes, took a deep inhale, and let out the breath. Then he opened his eyes, turning the full fierce smouldering gaze of a god onto his crew and the world.
“We’re at war. This attack by my sister is her declaration. She isn’t going to end it here. This loss won’t stop her. She’ll try again, come back to strike at the portal, attack the temples, perhaps even try and destroy the After World. I know her and her madness. She is single-minded. Her course now set, she will advance on these places repeatedly and with ever greater numbers. She has made her intentions clear. This is what the Oracle foresaw.”
He let his words wash over his men, the lies of omission, of what else waited out there scalding at his soul. He let the gasps subside before continuing. “What happens, whatever the outcome from here, I know one thing: I cannot allow her creatures access to the After World. I cannot put every soul there at risk.” He paused knowing his next words would shock. “The Sea Portal must be sealed! I will close this gateway After World and all access will be denied! This action will reverberate throughout every portal in the land, and no souls will cross until this fight is finished! The portals remain closed until we are victorious!” A silence, deeper than ever witnessed, fell. Rafe felt the shock and sorrow in his blood. “It must be done. This portal, all portals, must be sealed.” He turned to Hugh. “I’m sorry. I can’t grant you the peace you seek.”
Hugh raised his chin. “After what I’ve witnessed sir, I understand. I’m with you, no matter what.”
Rafe nodded in respect, hiding his surprise.
“You men can stay to watch the spectacle or go below deck. What’s about to happen here is heartbreaking, and I’ll not think less of you if you’d prefer not to bear witness.”
There were murmurs, but not a single man removed himself from deck. The solidarity gave Rafe strength. He walked to the rail, the crew parting to give him a path. He slid a hand into his pocket, closing his finger around the black amber. He extracted the rock, outstretched his hand, and opened his fingers. The stone sat warm and waiting on his palm.
Rafe Morrow closed his eyes. He summoned the magic that flowed inside him, the insubstantial essence that pervaded his flesh and his blood, letting it seep through to his skin. The luminescent magic glowed a pale blue, tinged with ivory and silver, invading the small polished rock in Rafe’s hand. Obsidian coils of energy slithered from the dark amber, wrapping themselves around the captain’s fingers and arm. Cerulean and midnight aura quivered and melded, and Rafe reached out to connect with the portal.
The customary sensation hit him like a gale wind, like a familiar ache ready to be split open to the world. This time there would be no gateway, no welcome breech to bridge two worlds. With a quick movement of his fingers, he fed the black amber’s magic into the hidden portal, slamming the doorway shut and sealed. A scream born of the dark ocean fathoms and the endless sky reverberated across the ship, across the sea. Every man, dead or alive, shivered at the sound.
Rafe let his magic die away and fade back to dormant. The light disappeared, and the black amber sat cold and inert on his palm. He slipped the rock back into his pocket.
“Well, it’s done. For good or ill. It’s done.” A hollow pit squirmed at the bottom of Rafe’s gut, threatening to ingest him whole. His bones ached, and he felt exhausted. He needed some quiet. “Set patrols for the next hour to guard against repercussions. Report to me if anything strange occurs or in an hour. Whichever comes first. I’ll be in my cabin.”
He tried to smile, but only managed a grimace before retreating to the sanctuary of his quarters.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” The Nightmare Crow screeched from its circling flight, with a rage powerful enough to shake the treetops. “You sent one beast! One! I commanded all attack! All!” The bird screamed, chasing the clouds across the moon. “You let him defeat you!”
Below on the sand, the Goddess of the Moon snarled back, “They would not go! They were afraid! Afraid of him and his ship! Only my eldest was brave!”
“You should have made them go! Every one! You failed me!”
“Liar! Liar! You are the one that failed! You were there! My eldest saw you! Told me! Why didn’t you fight him! Stop him!” She bared her teeth as if to eat the bird. “But he hurt you! Didn’t he? With his bell! I see the signs. Hurt you like you hurt my children! Sent them to do your mischief! Serves you right.” She snorted.
“You stupid, foolish creature! Don’t you understand? We’ve lost our chance! He has closed the portals! All of them!”
“What do I care of portals or of you? You are like all the rest! You promised to end my pain! You lied! Go yourself to my brother, you filthy bird, and fight your own battles! Leave me! Leave this place with your lies!”
Another screech and the bird swooped down, skimming past her face before settling to land on a rock near the sea. “I would if I could, Goddess.” It spat her title from its beak like a piece of rotten fish. “But I need a surrogate to do my bidding. You were the best I could find. Not good enough, it seems. Not good enough.”
The Goddess turned and glared. “Bidding! What a useless thing, that word. I do no one’s bidding. I am done with you.” She turned her ba
ck on the creature and traced patterns in the sand.
“Did I hurt your feelings? Make you angry?” Squawking laughter shrilled over the beach. “It matters not, Goddess, for I am not done with you.”
She turned back, still glaring. “Silly thing. Your wishes do not matter to me. You treat me like I was nothing. Come to me with promises and then blame. Like all the rest. No good to me. Be gone.” She chuckled. “What can you do to me, little bird? Hurt me? That’s been done. Kill me? I welcome it. Any pain you can give me, I already suffer worse. Go away, lying bird. Go away.”
The bird ruffled its feathers and pecked at the stone. Silence roosted for long moments, and the crow became as still as death. Then it spoke, its tone less harsh. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have wronged you, spoken out of turn.” The crow hopped off the stone and walked closer. “I was angry. I am sorry.”
The Goddess of the Moon snorted. “Doubt it. Your kind is never sorry. No more lies.”
The bird tilted its head. It laughed, a harsh, bone-aching sound. “Very well. Truth. I do not care for you, and you do not care for me. But we want the same thing: to end the reign of the God of Souls.”
“We tried. We lost. He won.” The Goddess scowled. “He always wins.”
“No one always wins. Luck turns. And that is what he is, lucky.” The creature flapped its wings and walked a circle around the Goddess. “We need to break his luck. A new approach, perhaps. One plan lost, another to rise from its ash.” The crow gave a small hop, inching closer to the Moon Goddess. “Now why did we fail? That is the question.”
“Easy, silly bird. You lied. You told me you could give me the power to hurt him. You didn’t. You are not as strong as he. Not strong at all.”
“Not strong...Why you impudent little worm!” The crow’s feathers ruffled and it stretched its wings. “I gave you enough power to...” The creature abruptly quieted, the words left unspoken. “Give you power. Perhaps that’s it. The missing piece.” The crow bobbed its head. “Before, we sent your children. Gave them the task of destroying him. A flawed strategy perchance, doomed to fail.”
The Goddess sneered, but the crow ignored her.
“Your beasts are powerful, but simple-minded creatures. Not enough hatred and too much fear to sustain them. You, on the other hand...” A caw and cackle shuddered across the air. “I should have sent you from the start. You, who is potent enough to kill him.”
The Goddess smiled. “Now that, little bird, is the first thing you’ve said that I have found interesting.”
“I thought it might be. Not as destructive as my first plan, but it will suffice, nonetheless.” The bird stepped even closer. “Hold out your arm.” She did as she was asked, and the crow leapt onto the limb. In an instant, it dug its claws into her appendage and slashed her flesh repeatedly with its beak. The Goddess of the Moon screamed and lashed out trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the bird. Moments later, after bloody runes were scored deep into her flesh, the crow flew back to its rock, trailed by her curses.
“What did you do to me, filthy beast!”
“Gave you a gift. Let the cuts heal for a day. Then you can take what you want. Fight him, and with those symbols, you will match his power. Your magic will be as strong as his. You can finally meet him in battle and win.”
“How?” She tilted her head, and her anger gave way to a look of curiosity. “No god but my father ever bested him.”
“With power older than the gods. The symbols I imparted to you allow you to reach it, use it. It will rise through your own magic for you to control.”
A crooked little smile snaked across her face. “My father does such a thing. But not like this. Not runes, and scars and pain. His talisman is a stone with spells and rituals to control what he wills.” She stared, her smile turning into a soft giggle. “Who are you, little crow?”
The crow chortled, a hoarse shrill noise, but only answered, “I know all about your father’s talisman. The thing he holds over all his children. Who do you think gave it to him so many years ago?”
With another cackling laugh, the crow took flight, leaving the Goddess of the Moon, staring at the bloody lacerations in her arm.
Chapter Thirteen
Soundings
A KNOCK SOUNDED ON the door of the captain’s quarters. Rafe raised his head from the glass of wine he nursed.
“Come in.” As much as he might wish, there was no use hiding from it.
Blackthorne entered. Rafe found his stern countenance a strange comfort.
“I’ve come with a report, sir. It’s been an hour since...” He let the sentence trail off and stared at his boots for a moment.
Rafe nodded, avoiding the sight of his first mate’s uneasy countenance. “Anything out of the ordinary? Any more creatures?”
“No, sir. It’s been smooth sailing and calm seas. We conducted short patrols of the area, but nothing, sir. Did the crew some good, though. A bit of routine composed their nerves.”
“That’s something at any rate.” Rafe stared out the porthole. “Have the crew set a course back to the nearest port and then come join me for some wine.”
Silence hung for a moment in the room. “Very well, sir.”
Blackthorne retreated, and, within minutes, Rafe felt the ship lurch and shift course. Rafe pulled an additional glass from his cabinet and set it next to the decanter on his desk. A few moments after that, another knock sounded on the door.
“Enter.”
Blackthorne appeared and sat down in a nearby chair. Rafe poured him a glass of wine and handed it to his first mate. Blackthorne took the offering and settled back in his chair with a sigh.
“A right mess, isn’t?” Rafe tossed a wry smile. “I keep wondering how it got to this state.” He imbibed a large sip of wine. “It doesn’t seem...” Rafe submerged his words in more wine, before continuing in a more melancholy tone. “Never envy the gods, my friend. Our lives offer little but endless days and regrets.” Rafe gulped the last remains of wine in his glass and poured himself another.
“How much wine have you had, sir?”
“Not enough, Blackthorne. Not enough.”
The first mate swirled his own glass of alcohol. “I suppose today, if any, is a good day to drown one’s sorrows.”
“It is, but I fear there will be others. Worse ones. Ones all the wine in the kingdoms won’t drown.” Rafe sighed long, weighty, and ugly. “It wouldn’t be so painful, so difficult, what’s coming, if I didn’t remember.”
“Remember, sir?”
“The times before, when we weren’t so burdened with years and discontent. She used to dance, my sister. Did you know that?”
Blackthorne shook his head.
“She did. Along the cliffs and the beaches, across the seas, under the pale light of her moon. She was beautiful then. Carefree, happy, and kind. I miss her kindness. Sometimes, long ago, she was the only one who was kind to me.”
“And now?” Blackthorne’s quiet voice sliced the strain of the room as well as any sword.
“And now I’ll most likely have to destroy her. Or she and this power that’s using her will destroy all of us. I’ll have to kill her or break her, Blackthorne. One way or another, I’ll have to sever her power as a goddess.” Rafe raised his glass in salute. “To the games gods play. Damn them all, and may we win.”
Blackthorne raised his glass, and they both drank, the wine consumed in one swallow. For a moment, they stared in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, then Rafe sighed.
“I suppose half drunk or not the crew needs orders.” He rose, wobbling a little on his feet. So, do you think they’ll listen to a slightly inebriated captain?”
Blackthorne snorted. “Those lot? They’d ask for a share of the wine.”
Rafe laughed softly. “They would at that.” The captain moved around the desk. “Come on then. Let’s get on deck. We have sailing to do and a goddess to stop.”
Blackthorne rose as well, questions tumbling past his lips before h
is good sense could stop it. “Sir, what will be the repercussions of this? What are we facing besides the coming battle with your sister?”
Rafe looked pained. “I don’t know, Elliot. I truly don’t. What I did will reverberate through every portal. They are all closed now. How the priests, the people will react to that, well, I suspect it will not pass with good grace. ”
“What will it mean? For the dead?”
“Death will continue. People will still die, and most will pass on as customary. The rest, they’ll linger or be eaten by my sister’s children until the portals reopen. The world has changed, Blackthorne. I think we will be facing fear, my friend.”
Blackthorne nodded, a saddened expression on his face. They both stared for a moment lost in their thoughts, and then returned topside.
The day still spread beautiful across the horizon as they emerged from below deck, the brilliant sunshine beckoning to possibilities. Despite what occurred, the blue sky had not torn asunder, the sea did not rage, and the call of the seabirds echoed in the distance. The world still lived, and work still lay ahead.
“The day’s not done, boys.” Rafe’s voice boomed, words cutting across the warm sunshine and air like the prow of his ship through water. “There’s sailing yet to be had today, and more hard days to come. We have been called to war whether we want it or not. Set course, Mr. Anders, back to the nearest island temple. We’ll be checking in there as the first port of call.”
“Aye, sir. That’d be Black Shoals Temple. Laying in course, sir.”
He adjusted the helm and the ship’s bones creaked as it turned towards the islands. In its wake, it left churning seas and finality. On its horizon, an uncertain future.
THE RETURN TRIP FROM the outlying ocean began in dismal temper, but a few hours into sailing with salt air and sunshine seeped cheer back into the ship. A wisp of a whistle, a snatch of a tune, and Short Davy took to humming.
